


CARRY-ON LUGGAGE

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Mech/Mech, Romance, Warped Reality (AU), dubious consent to being carried like luggage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Drift is allowed to take a carry-on with him when he leaves the Lost Light.





	CARRY-ON LUGGAGE

**Author's Note:**

> I think about the weirdest things.

Drift hikes the squirming bag up higher on his arm; muffled shouts can be heard coming from the inside but with the booing catcalls no one seemed to be paying particular attention to the sass and death threats emerging from the carry-on.  The warrior has a very pleased smile on his face as he spots Brainstorm.  He tosses a device at the mad scientist and loads the fighting duffle into the transport ship.  He flicks his fingers at the crew and and enters the ship.

The sporty mech sets the bag carefully into a chair next to the control panel before setting course for Hedonia.  It was the closest point to the Lost Light’s current location for a Cybertronian to safely stop and restock their supplies.  When he had maneuvered the transport ship about a light year away, Drift sets the autopilot and turns to the carry-on that had gone still sometime ago.  Mindful of the fact that the occupant was usually armed with a blaster or something sharp in his subspace, Drift opens the bag slowly, ducking his helm as the edges fall open.

He peeks at the little medic who stares at the warrior with death in his dark blue optics.  This is not a good sign for the rest of their voyage together.  A knee-height version of Ratchet huffs and still regards Drift with a deadly look as he crosses his arms over his chest.  He has yet to say anything which confounded Drift’s problems.  And if Drift was honest with himself, he’d have been sweating buckets of organic drool right now if he was a flesh creature.  As it is, the warrior has a nervous rattle in his engine as he tries his best flirty smile on the silent ball of fury sitting next to him.

“So here we are,” he hedges when he notices the narrowing of optics.  

He fiddles with the music distribution device and brings up his personal playlist.  The soothing sounds of a chakra singing bowl chime through the bridge’s speakers.  Drift automatically lets their quiet knells and vibrations roll over his frame.  He dims his optics in response haplessly forgetting his fellow passenger.

Drift yanks the small scalpel from his forearm and turns hurt optics to Ratchet.  He wisely shuts down his vocalizer and the music feed when a vibrating strut saw is held under cold blue optics.  He snaps around to stare straight ahead and takes the ship off autopilot to give himself something to do.

Ratchet puffs out his armor from his protoform in an unneeded display of threat when he senses Drift scanning him with a lateral sensor array.  He sniffs and buzzes the saw a few times which earns him a squeak.  The mini medic looks out the forward window to watch the specks of starlight speed by.

“How ‘bout we go see the Hedonian gaxzhip matches when we get there?”  Drift absently rubs the small dent in a finial from where a tiny wrench impacted.  "Okay, okay.  I’m driving the damn ship, no reason to be so bitchy.“

Drift ducks and grins sharply at Ratchet.  "Ha!  You missed that–!”  He hunches his shoulder and grumbles at himself as a small welt decorates his forehead from the third wrench thrown during a trip that had just started.


End file.
